Sitting in the morning traffic I began to think about retirement, as you do. I estimated that I'll have to work in France at least forty years to get anything decent. I came here in 2001 so that's 2041! I'll be 69 years old. Well at least the house should have been paid off in 2030, and the kids should be out of our hair. Niamh will be 36 and Liam 34.
I have difficulty imagining myself still teaching. The thought of standing up in front of a group of younger people, most of whom will think I am a badly dressed out of touch old fart, is rather worrying. I don't object to the idea of working at that age, although it is rather depressing to think I have 32 more years ahead of me. I just hope that I will be able to choose the type of work I'm doing.
At the same time as being depressing, it is quite exciting to think that, bar any major health problems, I have 32 years of experiences ahead of me. When I look back at the last 37, I feel I've done a lot. Sometimes I worry that my best days are behind me, but thanks to my mornings calculations, I realise that I've still got at least half my life to live. Anything could happen and it probably will.
